


When My Soul Floats Away

by phantisma



Series: Keeper Verse [39]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-06
Updated: 2008-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is hurt during a hunt, and asks Sam to come and get him...but Sam discovers that John's been hiding stuff from them, and when John asks for help, it isn't the kind of help Sam expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When My Soul Floats Away

_Heaven, seems so far away_

 

“Hello?” Sam held the phone with one hand and balanced the box of books he’d been holding with the other. “Yes, this is Sam Winchester.”

“Mr. Winchester, this is Montgomery County Memorial, in Red Oak, Iowa. We’re calling on behalf of Mr. John Winchester.”

Sam instantly went on alert. The box of books landed on the couch as he licked his lips. “Is he okay?”

John had left three days before on a routine haunting in Red Oak.

“He’s had an accident and he’s currently under doctor’s care.”

“What happened?” Sam walked in circles. Something must be wrong if his father was in a hospital…if he was letting the hospital call him.

“He was brought in unconscious. We’re still running tests.”

Sam sighed. “Is he awake? Can I talk to him?”

“Just a minute, sir.”

He was on hold for what felt like a long time before his father’s gruff voice filled his ear. “Sam?”

“Dad? Are you okay? What happened?”

“It’s nothing. I hit my head. I’ll be fine.”

There was something in his voice. It was more than a bump on the head. “Dad, tell me the truth.”

John grumbled something Sam couldn’t make out. “Can you just come get me? Without letting Dean or Dana know?”

Sam scowled at the phone. His father was hiding something. That much was very clear. “I don’t like lying. Dean sees right through it.”

“Please, Sam.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m on my way.” That alone convinced Sam. The way his father said “please”. It wasn’t like him.

Sam put the phone back in his pocket and hefted the box to take it out to the garage. John didn’t ask for help unless he needed it. Really needed it. Sam tried not worrying and got in the car. His first stop would be the garage, to let Dean know he was leaving. Sam climbed out of the car and looked around for Dean, eventually finding him bent under the hood of some import. He reached for him mentally, thoughts sliding up and into his head until he stood upright and Sam could slide his arms around his waist.

“Hey.” Dean leaned back to kiss his cheek.

“Hey.”

Sam had to work to keep the worry behind the walls in his head with the way Dean rushed into him. Dean pulled back and looked at him. “What?”

“It’s nothing. Dad called. That routine haunting turned out to not be so routine. I think he’s just too proud to say he’s getting old.”

“Let me clean up.”

Sam caught his hand and pulled him back. “I got this. It’s only a few hours away. And you promised Dana you’d work on her car.”

Dean shook his head. “That girl is no child of mine. The things she’s done to that poor car.”

Sam chuckled and kissed his forehead. “I’ll be home soon.”

 

 

_And gettin’ in right now don’t look too good for me_

 

The closer Sam got to Red Oak, the more he worried. He resisted the urge to reach out to the tepid connection he’d forged with his father over the last few years. John had always kept him at arms length when it came to that.

Sam pulled into the hospital parking lot and put the car in park. He’d always disliked hospitals, but since his recovery from the demon attack that had nearly killed him and the discovery of the full extent of his power, he hated them even more.

The suffering was so profound and it burned his skin. He took a deep breath and buttoned up his defenses tight before getting out of the car.

“I’m here to see John Winchester.”

A pretty blonde who had to be younger than Dana smiled up at him. Her fingers flew over the keyboard and she nodded. “Fifth floor. There’s a note here that Dr. Drell wants to see you.”

“Dr. Drell? How do I find him?”

“His office is on the fourth floor. Turn right off the elevator and you should find it easily.”

Sam thanked her and headed for the elevators. His head was skimming over everything that could be wrong and discarding them just as quickly. He found the office and exhaled to pull himself together. He knocked and the door opened. “Dr. Drell? I’m Sam Winchester, John’s son.”

“Son? He said son-in-law.” The doctor stepped aside and let Sam inside.

“We’ve been together so long, I don’t generally make the distinction anymore.” Sam said with a tight smile.

“I see. Please, sit.”

Something about this treatment was making Sam all the more nervous. “So, is this where you tell me that he’s dying?” He kicked himself as soon as he felt the wave of unease off the doctor. That was exactly what he was about to tell him.

“Your father is a sick man, Sam.” The doctor sat and folded his hands on his desk. “I’m not saying he is going to die in the next six months or even the next year, but he isn’t well.”

Sam took a deep breath. “What’s wrong with him?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

That surprised Sam and he looked up. “What do you mean?”

“We’re still running tests. His symptoms are difficult. At first it presented like a brain tumor or lesion. But the tests came back negative, no sign of either. No strokes.”

Sam licked his lips. “What are his symptoms?”

“Well, he came in unconscious. The people who brought him in said he’d been complaining of headaches and dizziness. His blood pressure is high and his heartbeat is irregular. He says he has been having back trouble and sharp shooting pains through his head and back. He has an elevated white blood cell count, like he’s fighting off a massive infection, but we can’t find the infection. His kidney function is impaired. There’s more, but those are the highlights.”

“How bad is it?”

The doctor sighed. “It’s bad enough that I want him to stay and let us continue tests. We can treat the symptoms, but without knowing what’s causing them…he’s only going to get worse.”

“Let me guess, he wants nothing to do with staying?”

“He’s a stubborn man.”

Sam nodded. “You have no idea. May I see him?”

 

_but inevitably, we all will see_

 

Sam leaned on the doorframe as his father opened his eyes. John was thin, pale and he looked tired. It seemed like it had been a lot longer than just a few days since Sam had seen him.

“How long have you known?” Sam asked casually, his senses sweeping along his father’s body, trying to find a source for the illness.

“Stop that.” John said, sitting up and gesturing at Sam’s head.

“Just trying to understand, Dad.” Sam moved into the room and pulled the door shut. “How long?”

John made a face. “Does it matter?”

“Stubborn goddamn fool.” Sam crossed the room. He could feel the dull pain that he knew had become fairly constant at the base of John’s skull, and the newer aches that came from his fall when he’d passed out. “Why didn’t you say something?”

John turned his face away. “Nothing to say. Always knew the hunt would kill me one day.”

Sam bit off the angry reply that wanted to burst out of him. He traced through his memory for the first time he remembered his father complaining about the headaches. “Five years?”

John made a face and rolled his eyes. “Do me a favor. Save the lectures for after you get me out of here.”

Sam shook his head. “You need to stay, let them run their tests.”

“They won’t find anything Sam. I’ve had them all before.”

That surprised Sam. He’d figured the old man had just been living in denial. “So you know what it is?”

John grimaced, his hand moving to his temple, his fingers rubbing into the skin. “I know enough to know these doctors aren’t going to find anything no matter what tests they run.” He looked up at Sam, his eyes dark with pain. “I just want to go home Sam.”

 

 

_That it all depends on where we’ll be_

They were half way back to Lawrence. The air in the car was heavy and neither of them had spoken since leaving the motel room where John changed into clean clothes and gathered his things while Sam hovered, ready to support him because John looked like he was ready to collapse.

John sighed. “Rest stop ahead. Could we stop?”

“Yeah, sure.” Sam guided the car off into the rest area. It was going on midnight and the area was fairly empty. Only a couple of trucks at the far end. John got out of the car and wandered toward one of the tables. Sam followed.

The irony wasn’t lost on Sam. His father had nearly died in a similar rest stop in New Mexico. Their relationship had come a long way in the years between. John sighed again, sitting on the table, his hands folded, elbows on his knees.

“I’m dying, Sam. Probably should have been dead before now.” He took a deep breath. “I figure I’ve got maybe a year. Dave says less.”

Sam shuffled closer, reaching a hand out and laying it on his father’s back. “Thought I got lucky. Remember that skin-walker? Almost six years ago now?” He crinkled his nose. “Stunk something awful.”

He remembered the hunt was tough. Dean broke two fingers, but it had been John that cornered the thing and finally took it down. It wasn’t their usual skin-walker either, took on its victims identities after biting them and injecting them with a toxin that paralyzed and slowly killed them over the following forty-eight hours.

“You told me you were fine.” Sam said, and it sounded like an accusation even though he kept his voice soft.

John nodded. “I was. I thought I was.” His right hand rose to rub the back of his neck. “It bit me, but I got it. Barely broke the skin.” He was quiet for a long time. “Didn’t feel the effects for a long time. Almost six months. That’s how long Dave figures it took to leech into my spinal column. Then the headaches started. Even then, I didn’t figure it out.”

He looked up at Sam. “I waited too long. We might have been able to do something if I’d gotten to someone who could diagnose it early enough.” His voice was flat, but Sam could sense the emotion under it.

He shook his head and moved closer to his father. His mind slipped over the distance, caressing against John’s natural defenses. _Let me see._

For a long minute Sam thought he’d refuse, then he felt the door open and he slipped into his father’s mind. He marveled every time he read John at the order and stillness. He found the memories of the doctors and hunters and mystics, books and spells and myths and ran through them to get the information he needed, then he turned to his father’s body.

Now that he knew what he was looking for, Sam found it, a long, angry red column of fire that ran the length of his spine and up into his brain. Taking a deep breath, Sam reached into himself, tapping into his own personal healing power and letting it flow through him and into John.

The fire cooled some and he felt the pain wash away. It wasn’t healing. It was only relief. Sam tried again The energy bubbled up through him, making his skin tingle. He directed it into his father, into his spine.

John gasped and Sam watched the red and soft blue writhe around each other. It was a fight he wasn’t going to win. At least not at a rest stop in Kansas in the middle of the night.

Reluctantly he pulled back. “I…can’t.” He blinked at tears.

“Not your fault.” John pulled him close. John held him for a long time and when he sat back he wiped his face. “I’m not ready to give up Sam. Not ready to tell anyone.”

Sam nodded, shivering. There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn’t put any of it into words. “Dean would want to know,” he finally said. “And you know I can’t really lie to him. Dana…she’s going to go ballistic.”

John nodded. “I know.” He stood slowly, smiling when the warmth of Sam’s pain relief made the movement easier than it might have been without it. “Let’s just get home…for now.”

“For now.” Sam agreed.

John dozed the rest of the way into Lawrence, and even after pulling in to his apartment complex, Sam didn’t want to wake him. He watched him sleep, his head against the window.

It was hard to remember sometimes that his father was over seventy. His full head of hair was still mostly dark, though silver veined through it now. He tended to see John Winchester as an immoveable force, timeless, strong, unstoppable.

He obviously hadn’t really looked at the man in years. John had lived more in those seventy years than most, and it showed in the lines on his face, on his hands. The signs were all there, and he had missed them.

“Stop blaming yourself.” John’s voice rumbled in the dark. He shifted and sat up.

“I—“ He was going to argue, say he wasn’t, but he couldn’t lie to him. “I can’t help but feel like I should have known.”

John chuckled as he opened his door. “What I know about hiding things you haven’t started to learn. Now, are you coming in, or going home?”

“Dean isn’t expecting me until tomorrow at the earliest.” Sam yawned and got out of the car too.

John grunted and led the way into the building, unlocking his door and stepping in. His steps faltered as a wave of pain rolled over him and he grabbed at the wall. Sam was at his side and holding him up in a heartbeat. “Let’s get you into bed before you fall down again.”

Sam supported him into the bedroom and went to one knee to remove his boots.

“I’m not an invalid, Sam.”

He looked up at his father. “No, but you’re my father and you’re sick and I can do this, even if I can’t make you better.” He ducked his head so John wouldn’t see the tears and finished pulling off his boots. Next came the jeans, replaced with a pair of soft sweats. Then he was tucking John in.

“Now, can I get you anything?” His hands fluttered over the blanket until John grabbed them.

“Sit.”

Sam sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. John held his hands, squeezed them. “I have a favor to ask you, Sam.”

“Anything. “

“This is going to get worse. Painkillers aren’t helping. I know you can’t heal me…but your gift…your power….it can help me control the pain. So I can function. So I can…” His voice cracked and he looked away. “I want to be there when Dana graduates at the end of the year. I want to live long enough for that, want to know which med school she decides on…want to see Scott figure out that she’s everything he could ever want. I want to finish some things I started.”

Tears spilled unchecked down Sam’s face as he nodded.

John wiped his face and inhaled. “You should rest.” Sam said softly, rising up to kiss his forehead. “I’ll be in the other room.”

He wasn’t going to sleep, Sam knew himself well enough to know that. He paced the living room restlessly. In the bathroom he found half filled pill bottles lining the shelves of the medicine cabinet, some of them dating back two years or more. Heating pads and ice packs, a cane Sam couldn’t remember seeing before.

There were other signs. The shelves of the cabinets in the kitchen below waist level were empty, as were all the ones above his father’s shoulder level. The bookshelves had been rearranged so that the books his father used the most were all at about waist high. The upper shelves and lower shelves were dusty and unused.

He felt Dana reaching for him, her concern flushing through their connection as she woke and felt his distress. He sent a wave of calm and urged her to go back to sleep. She didn’t need to deal with this, not when she had midterms coming up, and interviews with med schools over the next few weeks, and the big family Thanksgiving with Scott’s family and the Winchester clan, followed by her twenty-second birthday.

He pulled himself back inside himself then, inside the walls and defenses where he could process without bothering the people he loved.

First thing he needed to do was confirm John’s theory. Make sure he’d done everything he could. He pulled John’s duffle and went to the kitchen table, pulling out his journal.

Sam started a pot of coffee, found a pen and notebook and set about patching together the story.

He was on his second pot of coffee when his father stumbled out of the bedroom sometime after eight am. He blinked wearily at Sam and the stacks of books he’d gathered around him.

“You sleep at all?”

Sam shrugged and got up to pour coffee for both of them. “Wasn’t tired. Sit. I’ll make breakfast.”

John grumbled, but sat, lifting one of the books. “What’s all this?”

Sam inhaled and turned to face him. “If I’m going to help you, I had to know specifics. I’ve been researching.” He handed his father a cup of coffee. “Here.”

“You were checking my work.” John said, his eyes falling on his journal.

Sam was willing to concede that point. “Needed to know.” He swallowed a lump of emotion. “I’ll be calling Dave later, and I’ve already put in a call to Ally. She might know something we don’t.”

John smiled softly. “I saw Ally last summer, Sam. When I went to pick up Dana.”

Sam shook his head. “You…what?”

John put his coffee cup down. “Like I said, I’ve tried.”

Sam slumped against the counter. He wasn’t ready to give up, but it was time to let his father rest, not have him jump back into the search for some solution. Sam had promised to help him. So he would.

“I’ve been thinking.” Sam said, turning to the fridge to pull out eggs and butter.

“Am I going to like this thinking?” John asked, sitting back and cradling his mug to him.

Probably not, Sam knew. “I said I would help you, but I have conditions.”

John raised an eyebrow, but didn’t speak.

“No more hunts. I can’ t help you if you aren’t here, and as this gets worse, you’ll only get hurt more. Worse, you could get someone else killed. There’s no reason for it, not when I’m healthy, and Dana and Scott are becoming quite a team, and Dean’s been bitching about getting out more.”

John grimaced, but nodded. “Fine. No more hunts. Getting too damn old anyway.”

Sam swallowed. That had been easier than he expected. “I want you to start working fewer hours at the garage. Most men you’re age are thinking about retiring.”

John’s mouth opened, then closed. “What—Dean—“

“Dad, you’re going on seventy four. Dean loves you, and he realizes he can’t have you there all the time anymore. He’s got enough guys there to do the work, and that new bookkeeper is really working out.” Sam turned to look at him full on. “I’m not talking full retirement, Dad. Not yet. Just…cut back.”

Sam chewed on his lip and took another deep breath. “And, I agree we need to try to keep Dana out of this as much as possible. She’s got enough on her plate, but I can’t promise the same for Dean.”

John scowled at him. “It’s bad enough you know. I don’t want to be fussed over Sam.”

Sam managed a tight chuckle. “I’ll keep him from fussing, but he’s going to know, the minute he’s in here.” Sam gestured at his head.

John slowly nodded. “Yeah, okay. Anything else?”

Sam took a deep breath and pushed himself into his father’s head. _You’re going to have to stop fighting this._

He pulled back almost immediately. “I know it makes you uncomfortable, but I can’t help you if I have to waste all my energy getting inside.”

He cracked two eggs into the pan. “After we eat, I want to do a full reading, physical and mental, kind of a baseline to compare to later. I’ll set up a semi-permanent link, so I can read you whenever I need to.”

 

 

_When the lights go down_

 

It was Saturday, which meant Winchester Family dinner night. After Sam’s initial reading and an experiment to determine how effective Sam’s ability to transfer the pain numbing effects of his healing power really were, John had slept a few hours and so had Sam. Sam had done another treatment that afternoon, ending it with something of an energy transfer.

Dean had done it for him without really realizing what he was doing at first. At least Sam understood what he was doing. Now, sitting beside Sam in the car as they turned down the street to the house, John almost looked himself.

Sam could still see the dark circles, could still feel the undercurrent of discomfort, but his color was better and dressed in three layers of shirts and his jacket, he didn’t look as thin or worn.

Sam chewed on his lip as he parked on the street. Dana’s Impala sat next to Dean’s, telling him that she and Scott had already arrived. Sam exhaled and buttoned up tight, locking the information about his father away behind several layers of defense.

Rembrandt came running to meet them, followed by Dana. Aristotle raised her head from her bed near the fireplace and he could feel her warmth. She laid back down as Sam shed his coat. He could lose her soon too. She was twelve, nearly thirteen.

Aristotle had been the first gift his father had really given him. Of course, it was his way of giving Dana the puppy she wanted without getting shot by Dean, but still…she’d been his companion through some tough times, and the idea of being without her was painful.

Concern washed over him and he looked up to find Dana frowning at him. He smiled softly and tucked the emotion away. “How goes the studying?”

“It might go better if she actually studied.” Scott said, emerging from the kitchen.

Dana waved her hand as if to dismiss the ludicrous idea that she should study for something. “I’m well prepared for my midterms.”

Scott came and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him. “Better than me at least.”

“Unhand my daughter.” Dean said jovially from the top of the stairs. “And get back in the kitchen so you don’t burn dinner.”

“Scott’s cooking?” John asked, finally peeling off his coat and hanging it by the door.

Scott grinned over Dana’s shoulder. “Actually, my mother cooked, I’m just warming up.” He kissed Dana’s cheek and disappeared back into the kitchen.

“I’ll set the table.” Dana said, kissing first John’s cheek then Sam’s. _We’ll talk later._

Sam chose to ignore her and turned to Dean who was reaching for him mentally and with one hand. They caressed each other, sliding thoughts together. It was comforting, despite trying to seem casual and not give away the truth.

“So did you boys take care of the big bad ghostie?” Dean asked finally.

John nodded. “Yeah, I’m too damn old to be chasing teen-aged ghosts.”

“Not to mention digging graves in the middle of the night.” Sam added. He kissed Dean lightly.

Dean smirked at his father. “I’ve been telling you that for years.”

“Still your father.” John grumbled, swatting back. “Not too old to put you over my knee.”

“Like to see you try.” Dean said, dropping into a fighting stance, his hands up and fisted.

 _Be a good boy and I’ll put you over **my** knee later._ Sam sent to Dean, bringing him up short with a goofy grin.

“Promise?”

John rolled his eyes and moved to help Dana as she emerged from the kitchen with dishes. Sam felt for their new connection and sighed. His father seemed okay. Dean poked him and Sam nodded, drawing him out toward the back porch.

Remmy came running as Sam opened the door, racing out into the yard and immediately patrolling its perimeter.

“You gonna tell me what this is about?” Dean asked when he got the door closed.

Sam sighed and leaned into Dean. “Just wanted some time with just you.”

The look on Dean’s face said very clearly that he wasn’t buying that. “So it wasn’t a routine haunting?”

“As far I can tell it was. Dad’s just…getting old.”

Dean snorted. “Since when?”

Sam pulled back and leaned against the porch railing. “Seriously Dean…he’ll be seventy four.” He managed to keep the _if I can keep him alive that long_ behind the wall, but only barely. “He shouldn’t be hunting anymore…especially not alone.”

“Try convincing him of that.” Dean said.

“I have.” Sam shoved both hands in his pockets. “He doesn’t like it, but he’s agreed. We need to keep a better eye on him.”

“Hey…what is this?” Dean slipped his fingers into the pockets of Sam’s jeans and tugged. His face had gone from “stop telling stories” to serious concern. “Should I know what’s going on behind that wall?” He poked at it with the mental equivalent of a finger.

Sam shook his head. “I promised.”

“Okay, now you’re scaring me.”

“I don’t mean to.” Sam shook his head. “I told him I couldn’t hide it from you.” He sighed. “We need to…he doesn’t want Dana to know…not now.”

 _You better start fucking talking._ Anger flashed through Dean and Sam wrapped his shields around them both to keep Dana out of the space. She was a lot better about eavesdropping, but Sam expected a reaction from Dean that Dana would feel without the shields.

Sam tugged on Dean, holding him and kissing him before putting his forehead to Dean’s. _Dad was in the hospital at Red Oak._ Sam guided them into the memory of the doctor and John’s revelation, holding Dean with his hands and his mind.

_“I’m dying, Sam. Probably should have been dead before now.” He took a deep breath. “I figure I’ve got maybe a year. Dave says less.”_

The words echoed in the suddenly empty space of Dean’s mind. Everything else vanished and there were only those words and the awful reality.

“Sam?” Dean’s whisper was anguished and his hands fisted in Sam’s shirt as he shook his head, trying to make it go away.

“Shh…I know.” Sam kissed his head and pulled him closer. “I’ve gone over his tests and I talked to Dave and Missouri and Ally…I’ve tried to help him…I just…”

Memories spilled through Dean; images of John and Mary before Sam was born, riding beside his father in the Impala, John showing him how to hold a shotgun, tucking Dean’s tiny body tight against his own as they pulled the trigger. Tears burned into the shirt Sam wore and Sam could only hold his brother while he worked through it.

 

 

_and the audience starts to leave_

Something was definitely up, Dana could tell. She watched her Papa setting out dishes and glanced at the back door where Sam and her father had disappeared. She’d felt the wall slam up and if it weren’t for the strange feeling she’d gotten from Sam earlier, she’d assume it was just her father welcoming Sam home.

She squinted at her Papa. Something was different. She scanned over him, justifying the vague intrusion as helping. She was surprised to find a tendril attached and leading out to Sam. She scowled. Sam was keeping tabs on her Papa. That was not a good sign.

Scott appeared before she could decide what to do, setting a bowl of fried rice onto the table. “Wanna help me?” She glanced at John, then nodded.

“Papa, could you tell Dad and Sam we’re ready?”

Obviously, she wasn’t welcome on that back porch. She tried to curb her curiosity and followed Scott into the kitchen.

“I’m impressed.” Scott said as she lifted the bowl filled with chicken chow mein.

“By what?”

“You guessed something wasn’t right through the night, and they’ve been here for ten minutes and you haven’t even asked.”

She rolled her eyes. “I do have **some** self control, Scott.”

“Not usually when it comes to your men.” Scott countered, kissing her before picking up the tray of egg rolls and the bowl of sautéed veggies.

She sighed. “I just…I’m giving them space. I’m sure they’ll tell me if I need to know.”

“Tell you what?” John asked as he came in from the porch.

Dana shook her head lightly. “Nothing, Papa. You want a beer or something?”

“I’ll get it.” He ducked around her into the kitchen, emerging with three beers and heading for the table.

Dana heard the back door open and Remmy came racing in, checking in with Aristotle before curling up on his blanket. Sam bounded up the stairs, and Dana heard the bathroom door close. Her father ran water and was in there until Sam came back in a different shirt.

“I’m hungry.” Sam declared, slipping a hand into Dean’s hand.

Dean sniffled and didn’t look at anyone in particular. “Me too. Lets eat.”

Dana didn’t like the way her father’s eyes were red or the way he didn’t look up from his plate or the way it was obvious Sam was blocking him from her. Not that she was digging, but the wall was pretty flipping solid and she could feel it against her own shielding.

Her men were keeping something from her. Something that made her father…sad. She thought that’s what that face was. She bit back the need to know and reminded herself that they loved her. They would tell her. Eventually.

 

 

_But when my soul floats away_  
and god takes my breath away  
all the signs of life have come and gone 

It was getting worse. There was no denying it. John’s hands shook as he put down the pen. The headache was building and the fire in his back was intense. Sam wasn’t due for another few hours.

Somehow he had to pull himself together.

He took a deep breath and reached for the bottle of painkillers. They never helped for long, but they did at least take the edge off. He swallowed down three pills dry, then started when the phone rang.

Caller ID said it was Dana. Again.

“What is it now?” he asked irritably into the phone.

“Hey Papa, do you have the Rosewell’s book?”

“I don’t know Dana.”

“It’s the little red one with the stuff on mages in the 18th century.”

John tried to be calm. But this was her fifth call in the last 5 hours. “I said I don’t know.”

“Mind if I come by to look?”

“Dana, I’m in the middle of something.”

“It won’t take long.”

That was when he realized he could hear her outside his door as well as through his phone. He sighed heavily. “The door’s open.”

He hung up and dropped the phone on the table. Dana bounced into the room a moment later, all smiles. She kissed his cheek and fell into a chair beside his. “Watcha working on?”

He closed his eyes and willed the headache to back off. Just a little. “It’s personal.”

Her smiled dimmed a little and he could feel her scan him. After a month and a half of Sam doing the same thing every day, John had gotten pretty good at sensing it.

Suddenly, Dana slapped her hand down on the table. “Okay. I’m done. I’ve played this every way I know how and not a one of you will tell me what’s going on. But I swear, Papa, if you don’t tell me right now, I’m walking out that door and I’m never speaking to you again.”

John leaned his head on his hand. “Dana, honey…please.”

“No. I’ve been grown up about this. I haven’t pried, no matter how much I wanted to, but every time I see you, you look worse. And Sam is run down and run ragged and he’s over here every fucking day. So I know something’s wrong.”

“Sam’s been helping me…with a project.” John licked his lips. Dana grabbed at his hand.

“Please, Papa. Don’t lie to me anymore. I don’t know if I could take it if you lied. Dad cried Christmas, after Sam brought you home. He cried and locked himself in his room and wouldn’t tell me why.” She tugged on his hand. “I’m scared. I don’t like being scared.”

“I’m scared too, Dana.” John said softly. He wiped his free hand over his face. “I didn’t want it to get in the way. You have so much to deal with.”

“You’re my Papa, did you think I wouldn’t want to know everything?” She pouted and fought back tears. “Did you think I wouldn’t know something wasn’t right? You’re sick. I see it in your eyes and the color of your skin. And Sam’s here everyday because he uses his power to…to…I don’t know…and it’s really scaring me.”

Big tears fell from her eyes and John held out his arms, wrapping them around her when she came to him. “Shh…easy, baby girl.”

“Don’t placate me.” She snuffled and wiped at her nose. “Just tell me.”

He shifted so that she was mostly sitting on his lap and wiped a stray hair from her face. “There isn’t an easy way to say it. Sam’s been helping me cope with the pain. Everyday it gets a little harder and takes a little more out of him.”

“The headaches?” Dana asked, rubbing her eyes.

John nodded. “Yes. I was bitten a few years ago, honey, and it’s finally coming to get me.”

Here dark green eyes were wide with fear. “Are you…is it going to…get better?”

John closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see her face. “No, Dana. It’s only going to get worse.”

His back was screaming in pain, but he wouldn’t have let go of her for any amount of pain. She was sobbing and clinging to him, and he held her and rocked her.

 

 

_don’t you take my rockin’ chair_  
just keep it rockin right there  
someone’s right behind me to rock on 

 

Dana’s graduation should have been a rowdy celebration. She was somber though as she took to the podium to deliver her valedictorian speech. Her eyes never left her Papa’s. They brimmed with tears and the pride in them made her heart glow. She knew what it had taken to get him there for this, and knew he wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

He wasn’t going to last a lot longer. She knew that too. He’d held on this long for this day. She stumbled through her speech, though she scarcely was aware of anything she said.

She felt Sam, offering her strength and focus, his own pride in her nearly overwhelming as she took her diploma and crossed the stage. She was sure she was going to be sick, even as Scott’s arm circled her waist to steady her.

Sam was helping John to the car and Dana offered what she could of help with half of Lawrence around them. Then she and Scott were stopping to make nice with his family. _I’ll be home soon._ Dana sent to Sam.

 _Take your time. He needs to sleep._ Sam responded just before the car pulled away.

 

 

 

_Steppin’ up, to shine after i go  
to be the one to sit down in my place_

 

“Close the door.” John licked his lips and watched Scott do as he was told before he came to sit in the chair by the bed. “By now you’ve figured this out. You’re a smart boy.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You love my granddaughter.” It wasn’t a question.

Scott smiled and nodded. “Yes, sir. I do.”

John nodded too. “I’m glad I was wrong about you.” He took a deep breath, praying it didn’t send him into coughing spasms. His body was shutting down, the toxin eating away at him. “I won’t be here to look after her. I need to know you will be.”

“Dana does a pretty good job of looking after herself these days.”

John nodded. “She’s still a Winchester. Has her daddy’s penchant for trouble.”

“I hear that.” Scott said. “I promise I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I ask.” John sighed. “Okay, maybe there’s one more thing.” He held up an envelope. “I’ve taken care of everything. Don’t want my boys to have to deal with it. I imagine things are going to be pretty rocky here when I go, so I want you to handle what’s in this envelope. All the instructions are there. Who to call and when, what to say.”

He licked his lips. “There’s also something else. I…words are not a Winchester thing. You may have noticed. But there are things…I wrote them down. When the time comes, I want you to tell my boys and my girl what they meant to me.”

Scott looked at him, unbelieving. “What? Me? I don’t understand.”

John’s smile was sad. “They won’t hear them if I say them. Not with their hearts. Not like they will when you read them. Promise me.”

“Yes, sir. I promise.”

“Good boy. Now get out of here and let an old man sleep.”

Scott got to the door and John called out to him. “Yes, sir?” Scott asked, turning back.

“You take care of my girl, you hear me? If you hurt her, there’s no salt in the world that can keep my ghostly ass from coming after you.”

 

 

_Could be my son, could be someone  
who will do the things that i have done_

“You sure you want to do this?” Sam asked.

Dana nodded, gripping Scott’s arm tightly. “I want him to know we’ll be okay.” Dana said.

Outside the kitchen door Dean and Scott’s parents waited with a justice of the peace. Sam sighed. “Okay, I wanted to do this more formally…but this will have to do.”

“Sam?”

“Just trust me Dana, and I’ll explain later. Center, and open up. Scott, you know the drill.”

Sam felt Dana open up to him and touched her softly, more or less taking her hand and guiding her into Scott. Scott stiffened, but eased up after a moment. _Take this._ Sam pointed her to a control buried deep inside Scott’s head. _Hold on._ He cut his own ties to the control, relinquishing Scott’s metaphysical keeping to Dana.

Dana opened her eyes as soon as he’d let her go. “What the hell?”

“I’ll explain later. We don’t have a lot of time.”

Dana bristled, but ran a hand over her white dress and took Scott’s hand. “It had better be a good damn explanation.”

“Oh, it is.” Scott said as Sam guided them out into the hallway. Dana and Scott led the rest into the spare bedroom where John now lay. He was wasting away, hadn’t eaten in days, but his eyes opened as they came in. Dana let go of Scott long enough to kiss his cheek.

“We wanted to have you here for this.” Dana whispered. _Don’t go yet._

He was long past the ability to make words, but he nodded. She brushed at a tear and went back to Scott. Dean perched on the side of the bed, sliding a hand into John’s. Sam went to his other side. He let the words wash over him. They didn’t matter. He slid a thought along the tendril that connected him to his father, into the throbbing cavern of his head.

Nothing held the pain at bay now and it was time to let him go. Sam poured himself into his father, filling him with the love that Sam had only learned from these people. _I love you Daddy._

He felt John’s response, reached for Dean and drew him into the loop. Dean’s tears flowed down his cheeks. _It’s okay, Dad. Let go._ Dean’s presence rubbed against him.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Dana sobbed, and instead of turning to kiss Scott, she turned to John. “Papa?” Her voice trembled. Sam felt John’s heart slowing.

Beside them Dean was murmuring to him, telling him to go be with Mary. Telling him he loved him. Then everything went white.

 

 

_To turn the audience on and the lights back to the stage_

 

Dana was crying softly. Sam opened his eyes and the whole world spun around him. Dean’s hand on his shoulder helped steady him. “Easy.”

They weren’t in the bedroom now. Mrs. Wu had her arms around Dana while Scott and Mr. Wu were no where to be seen. Dean was kneeling on the floor in front of the couch where Sam was laying.

John Winchester was gone. Sam didn’t even have to reach for him to know. When the link severed, Sam had passed out.

Dean’s eyes were red and swollen. Sam tried to sit up, but Dean held him down. “Rest. You’re exhausted.”

Sam shook his head. There was so much to do. “Dad—“

Dean gave him a weak smile. “Dad handled pretty much everything. Gave Scott the duty of carrying it out.”

“What a way to welcome the kid to the family.”

 

 

 

_then when my soul floats away_  
and god takes my breath away  
all the signs of life have come and gone  
don’t you take my rockin’ chair  
just keep it rockin’ right there  
someone’s right behind me to rock on 

 

Scott stood beside the gravestone as those who weren’t immediate family moved away. He held John’s letter in his hand. He’d read it so many times he could almost say the words from memory.

Dana stood between Dean and Sam, all three of them huddled together. When Sam nodded, Scott lifted the paper.

“When I first stood here, Dean was just a boy. Four years old. He was brave though as we buried what was left of his mother, of my sweet Mary. Who knew how many times we would come back here?

“Dean, my son, you are more man than I dreamed you’d be. The night we lost your mother and your brother, you held me and told me it would be okay. I didn’t believe you then. But maybe I do now. Mind what you’ve learned. Keep fighting the dark. Take care of Sam. He needs you as much as you need him.

“Dana, my beautiful, talented girl…don’t hate Sam or your father for keeping this a secret. It was my decision…I only asked that I live long enough to see you graduate. I am so very proud of you. I remember the first time I held you in my arms. You were so small and brave. You’re not so small now, but you’re the bravest woman I’ll ever now. Love that man of yours, and look after your fathers. I know they can be a handful.

“I’ve already said my piece to Scott, so that only leaves you, Sam.” Scott’s voice faltered a little, but he cleared his throat. “I lost my son the night Mary was taken from me, and a part of me died with him. I never dreamed I could love another like that…especially not when I met you. But I watched the love you had for my boy transform you into a man that I love as if I had raised you, as if my son had never been taken from me. I cherish every moment that I had with you.”

Scott cleared his throat again, looking up at tear stained faces. “I love all of you Winchesters. Now, finish your crying and break out the Jack. Shots for everyone.”

Scott held up the bottle and five shot glasses. Sam smiled through his tears and Dana came to help Scott pour. Then Dean was raising his glass and the extra. “To the toughest son-of-a-bitch I’ve ever known. Give ‘em hell, Dad.”

He upended one shot and downed the other. And only after did he wipe his face and hug Dana to him. Sam filled his shot glass a second time and squatted next to the tombstone. He nestled the glass into the grass beside the urn that held the remains. Dana followed suit, flanking the urn.

“Goodbye Papa.” She ran a hand over the names etched into the stone, then stood. She took Scott’s hand, then Sam’s. Sam slipped an arm around Dean and together the Winchester family left John to get reacquainted with his wife and grandson.


End file.
